The Colonial and Revolutionary Periods 35
“I have not heard of the like, yet framed, since it pleased God to bring that mighty
Continent of America to light.” “Others of my Countrey-men have often, and
excellently ... written of the Countrey,” he concedes. But “this key, respects the Native
Language of it, and happily may unlocke some Rarities concerning the Natives
themselves, not yet discovered.” Each chapter of Williams’s Ke y begins with an
“Implicit Dialogue,” a list of words associated with a particular topic, the Nassagansett
words on the left and their English equivalents on the right. This is followed by an
“Observation” on the topic; and the topics in these chapters range from food,
clothing, marriage, trade, and war to beliefs about nature, dreams, and religion.
A “generall Observation” is then drawn, with cultural inferences and moral lessons
being offered through meditation and analogy. Finally, there is a conclusion in the
form of a poem that contrasts Indian and “English-man.” These poems, in particu-
lar, show Williams torn between his admiration for the natural virtues of Native
Americans, and their harmony with nature, and his belief that the “Natives” are,
after all, pagans and so consigned to damnation. Implicit here, in fact, and elsewhere
in the Ke y is an irony at work in a great deal of writing about the “noble savage.” His
natural nobility is conceded, even celebrated: but the need for him to be civilized
and converted has to be acknowledged too. Civilized, however, he would invariably
lose those native virtues that make him an object of admiration in the first place.
And he could not then be used as Williams frequently uses him here, as a handy tool
for attacking the degenerate habits of society.
Williams was clearly drawn to the simplicity and what he saw as the humility of
Native American life. When he writes of the Nassagansett religion in his Ke y, for
instance, he points out that the Nassagansetts have instinctively understood the “two
great points” of belief: “1. That God is. 2. That hee is a rewarder of all them that
diligently seek him.” He is even intrigued by what he sees as their apprehension of a
spiritual presence in everything. The intrigue, or even sympathy, however, quickly
shades into suspicion, since such a custom cannot but remind him, he admits, of the
“Papists.” And inevitably, inexorably toward the end of his chapter on religion and
its vocabularies, Williams feels obliged to point out that the Nassagansetts may well
be one of “the wandring Generations of Adams lost posteritie:” one of the ten lost
tribes of Israel, that is, whose ignorance is a sign of their spiritual exile. The chapter
concludes, appropriately enough, with a vision of judgment. “Two sorts of men shall
naked stand,” Williams solemnly announces, “Before the burning ire / Of him that
shortly shalle appeare / In dreadful flaming fire.” The Indian belongs with the
millions who “know not God” and his fate is a warning. For, “If woe to Indians,
Where shall Tu r k, / Where shall appeare the Jew?” For that matter, “Where shall stand
the Christian false? / O blessed then the True.” The Native American may have native
virtues but they place him, in the hierarchy of final judgment, only slightly
above those degenerates of civilization who embrace a false religion or are false to
the true one. He remains below all those who follow the true path. Williams’s Ke y is
an immense and imaginative project, founded on a recognition many later writers
were to follow that the right tool for unlocking the secrets of America is a language
actually forged there. But it remains divided between the natural and the civilized,
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